The Collector

I’m the rare and brilliant butterfly
Whose standout stippling caught your eye.

My gauzy, glossy, gossamer wings,
When compared to newer things,

Weren’t so shiny, weren’t so filmy;
But why’d you have to go and kill me?

Pulled and pressed and pinned in place,
Imprisoned in a curio case,

I knew not then but on reflection:
I was a fancy add to your bug collection.